


Gonna Serve You Til Your Dying Day

by nothingelsematters



Series: Liar [3]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Big Spender, Deacury AND Maylor, Foursome sort of, Hammersmith Odeon 1975, Liar, M/M, M/M + M/M, Under-negotiated Kink, it's fine though they both want it they're just not good at advance communication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 23:10:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16963248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingelsematters/pseuds/nothingelsematters
Summary: John is pretty sure Freddie is showing more and more skin as time goes by. Thing is, those zippers look like they're not made to sit that low, and John can't stop looking.





	Gonna Serve You Til Your Dying Day

**Author's Note:**

> Over 3000 hits for the Liar series so far! Oh my god. I'm overwhelmed. So overwhelmed. Thanks so much everyone!
> 
> First of all, sorry this was later than intended! I meant to post it yesterday, but a) I got food poisoning and b) this underwent no fewer than SIX rewrites, largely thanks to my watching my newly-acquired "Night at the Odeon" DVD and discovering that that the sexual tension that whole show was off the charts.
> 
> So this is the fic for the Liar performance of Hammersmith Odeon 1975 (Christmas Eve show): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2egPHOOPzfY
> 
> And this is the Big Spender and Jailhouse Rock encore: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LhBDbvHqn58

“Mphmbleh!”

John turned away from the mirror, startled, at the muffled screeching coming from behind him. Even as he watched, his dressing room door opened, and in walked a tall creature with a flapping white head and arms –

 _Oh_.

John tried not to laugh as he stepped forward and reached out.

“Bri – Bri, stop moving-!”

Unfortunately, Brian blundered straight towards the voice, and that was how John found himself backed up against the wall, chest-to-chest (mostly) with their guitarist, one of those long legs wedged between his, and his hands spread against Brian’s flat stomach.

_Oh._

“Bri, stop wriggling,” John managed to say. A plaintive sound came from inside the tangled mess that was Brian’s shirt. “If you _stay still_ , I’ll get you out of there.”

Brian promptly stood very still, and John set to work. Of course, it was the giant white satin batwing tunic. Which tangled in ludicrous ways and – “How did you get the laces tanged _in your hair_ , Bri?”

Brian made a muffled noise that sounded suspiciously like, “Roger’s fault.”

“Well if it’s your boyfriend’s fault, why isn’t he the one helping you?”

A judicious tug finally got Brian’s face free, and he looked at John gratefully.

“He was laughing too hard. And then someone called him away.”

John snuffed a laugh as he slid the satin down over Brian’s hips, smoothing it with his hands. “Well, nothing’s come to harm at least.”

Brian smiled down at him, but it wasn’t his normal warm friendly smile; it had something a little more predatory behind it, and John let himself be drawn into those hazel eyes, idly wondering if Brian and Roger might like to share their bed tonight…

“Will you tie me up?” Brian asked innocently; but his eyes flashed at John, telling him he knew _exactly_ what he was saying.

It took John a moment to realise Brian was actually talking about the lace-up back of his shirt, and he swallowed, reminding himself they were about to do a show.

“Sure. Turn around.” Brian did so, lifting his hair so that John could tighten the top without snagging.

“Not too tight at the top,” he added, and John understood; Brian needed movement through his shoulders. He left the lacing at the top looser, and began to tighten them as he went down, Brian letting him know when to move down.

However, when John started pulling the laces at Brian’s waist tighter, the guitarist remained silent, even as the satin began to be pulled taut across his skin, and John could hear him start to breathe a little more shallowly. Looking up, John realised Brian’s head was tipped back, his eyes closed, a slight flush on his cheeks.

“Bri?” John said at last. “I think that’s tight enough. You gotta be able to sing.”

“Mm,” was Brian’s only response, and John could see that Brian didn’t particularly want John to stop, so someone was going to have to take charge.

“Bri, I’m tying it up now,” John said as firmly as he could, trying make his fingers not tremble as he knotted the laces. Though at least it was nice to know he wasn’t the only one who liked being a little short of breath, he did generally like to be able to breathe during their performances.

“Thanks, John,” Brian replied on a sigh; then he shook his head and turned to face John with a grin. “You ever use that voice on Freddie?”

John blushed almost immediately and cursed his reaction inwardly. “Sometimes. I’m not very – very good at it. I worry I’ll…” John flailed with one hand and picked up his guitar with the other.

“Hurt him? Go too far?”

“Yeah.”

Brian eyed him thoughtfully. “And I suppose Freddie does whatever makes you happy, so he doesn’t push you.”

John didn’t answer. He didn’t enjoy being reminded of his relative naiveite.

“Perhaps what you need is someone to show you how it’s done.”

It was an innocuous comment, made mildly, as though Brian was remarking on the weather. But it was enough to make tingles race through John’s spine, and he had to very forcibly push the thoughts to the back of his mind. They had a concert to play.

*

John hadn’t seen Freddie’s costume change during Brian’s guitar solo. He and Roger were quickly gulping some water down, and for a brief moment John pitied Brian, the only one of them that didn’t get a moment to disappear into the shadows and have a drink during the show.

Roger ran quickly back out to the drums so he could pick up his piece, and John just stood in the wings, breathing for a moment as he prepared to launch back in.

“Are you ready for the next part, my love?” Freddie’s voice whispered in his ear.

“Always,” John said. “I can’t wait to do _Liar_ with you.”

“Well then, let’s go,” and Freddie raced out onto the stage. John had just enough time to notice that his new onesie was black, before he had to follow suit.

Slowly, during _Son and Daughter_ and _Keep Yourself Alive_ , John began to register just how dangerously incredible Freddie’s new onesie was. The zipper went down lower, right down into Freddie’s crotch, and it seemed to be unzipped even lower than his previous white one.

“Sock it to ‘em Rog!” Freddie growled, and John nearly jumped out of his skin, even as his fingers automatically jumped to the strings for _Liar_. John moved across to check on Roger, who was starting to look tired, but Roger just shot him a playful grin and continued drumming as though his life depended on it.

“ _Liar!_ ”

The first guitar interlude was announced with a shriek of “Brian!” and John moved back to let Brian do his thing. He could still see the laces in Brian’s lower back straining slightly, but to his credit, John thought, you’d never tell.

Then Freddie turned to face him, and John felt a heat that wasn’t the rush of performing flower in his gut.

If John was honest with himself, Freddie looked halfway fucked already, the zipper low, his nipples on show for the crowd, his hair by now a mess and his makeup starting to run a little from the sweat. But it was _John_ Freddie was staring at, _John_ who those little jerks of the hips were directed at, and John had to swallow very hard and try and think of something else even as he stared back.

“ _Liar_!”

That Freddie dropped into a growl John had never heard him use outside their bedroom in the next chorus did _nothing_ for the tightness of his pants.

John was almost relieved when the next musical interlude arrived; no distracting vocals from Freddie, no raspy screams from Roger, only the music, on which it was easier to focus, especially given Freddie moved off to the side to fetch his tambourine.

Well, right up until Freddie sidled up to Brian as he played, banging the tambourine against his hip.

(John would like to throw that tambourine off the stage. Or hide it somewhere Freddie could never find it again during their concerts.)

Brian glanced sideways at John and moved away; and Freddie decided the only suitable reaction to that was to back his way up to John and moving in his Freddie way _right next to him_ , and Jesus, John thought, there was no way for him to hold his bass to hide what that was doing to him.

(When Freddie moved away to give John a little breathing space, John noticed that Brian had retreated back next to the drums, and he and Roger were playing while engaging in what John could only describe as eye-fucking.)

“ _Listen_!”

John would very much have liked to move his guitar aside so he could press right up to Freddie and let him feel the reaction he was having, but that would be a bit obvious, so he settled for pressing up over his shoulder and rocking the bass against Freddie’s back.

Unfortunately this gave him a view of something else – the way the zipper was straining over the outline of Freddie’s cock, looking like it was barely holding up. A flash of possessiveness shot through him, as he imagined all these people getting a look at what was _his_ …

Freddie was looking sideways at John as he sang, almost like he knew exactly what John was thinking. “Mama I’m gonna be your slave!”

“All day long,” John’s voice came out lower than usual, and he felt Freddie’s shiver and knew that he’d heard it.

Their fuck tonight was going to be _amazing_ , Freddie knew it.

*

John had just finished unbuttoning his waistcoat when the manager banged frantically on the door. “Quick, get back out there, they want you for more!”

John glanced in the mirror, grimaced at his hair, threw his hat on and snatched up his guitar in one quick movement. As he rushed back towards the stage, he felt, rather than heard, Roger join him; the other man was wearing some ludicrous multi-coloured wig and suspenders, and Roger winked at John as they came back into the wings. One of the techs was already holding out John’s cord, and he quickly plugged it in. He heard a similar thunk nearby, and looked up, blinking in surprise to see that Brian was now dressed all in black; tight black pants (and how had he got out of the tight white pants so quickly and into those that quickly? It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes), a lovely black shirt and a scarf. A glance sideways at Roger told him that Roger was flushed and his eyes were glued to his boyfriend.

“All right, darlings, let’s do _Big Spender_ and the _Jailhouse Rock Medley_ ,” Freddie announced, and it was the turn of John’s jaw to hit the floor at the sight of his boyfriend wrapped in a lavish kimono. “Ready? Let’s go.”

Roger went out first to get them started, and the crowd was delighted; it gave John and Brian time to get into position.

John hadn’t had time to think through what they were doing, until Freddie started singing in that low growl again and he saw Freddie’s fingers start untying the sash at his waist.

“I don’t pop my cork for every one I see,” Freddie turned to face John as he sang, and flicked off the shoulder of his kimono – revealing a t-shirt and a pair of very short shorts – and John was suddenly very, very glad that the lights were dim because he was quite sure he’d nearly come in his pants.

And of course Freddie finished the routine in front of him, flaunting his ass in John’s face, and John wasn’t sure if he wanted to have a heart attack or just drag Freddie backstage right then and there.

Then Brian began working up the tempo for _Jailhouse Rock_ and John mercifully had to concentrate. He was successful, right up until Freddie leaned in as though he was going to go on his knees and blow John right there on stage, and then John just couldn’t concentrate anymore.

*

John didn’t even bother going to his dressing room. He went straight to Freddie’s and pounced, pinning the older man against the wall and kissing him as fiercely as he could.

Freddie made a happy sound under him, parting his legs slightly so that John could push closer and rub his erection against Freddie’s hip.

“ _You_ did this to me,” John growled. “I spent half the night playing and having to hide _this_!”

“Well you didn’t hide it very well, my love,” Freddie teased, though the teasing effect was ruined somewhat by his breathless state; John could feel the outline of his cock hardening against his leg. “I could see it almost as soon as I came out in that black number.”

“Where _is_ that black number?” John started kissing down Freddie’s neck; he contemplated their surroundings. There was a couch behind them, none too comfortable…no, they’d have to wait for the hotel room.

Although the four of them were in the same room.

“It’s in my bag, dear one,” Freddie was even more breathless now. “I thought I could put it on again when we got back to the room, since you liked it so much.”

“Yes,” John breathed. With an enormous effort of will, he pulled back from Freddie. “Please hurry,” he added. “Let’s go.”

Freddie laughed and dragged on some pants, throwing a coat on over the top – and of course, John thought enviously, he still looked incredibly beautiful.

In the hallway they met Roger and Brian. Brian looked somewhat flustered and Roger was grinning like the cat that got the cream.

“Oh, evening, gents! I hope you don’t plan on sleeping anytime soon.”

Freddie laughed. “Oh _no_ , darling, I’ve a fashion show to put on.” His face lit up, he slung an arm around Roger’s shoulders, and suddenly they were whispering and giggling together as Brian and John followed them out.

“Do you get the feeling we’re doomed?” Brian asked John as they slid into the car.

“Yes,” John replied. “Definitely.”

*

John hummed as he felt Brian’s long fingers playing with his hair. He was lying stretched out on the biggest bed in the room (achieved by shoving two smaller beds together), his head resting on Brian’s chest. Both he and Brian were fully clothed, and both were watching the bathroom door with interest and slight boredom. Behind the door was much giggling; then Roger’s voice called, “Okay, we’re coming out!”

Roger strutted out first, wearing the tightest pants John had ever seen and his open shirt from the show. Freddie must have redone his makeup; his eyes were outlined in dark pencil, making them look bigger and bluer, and his already long eyelashes had been made longer with mascara. John felt Brian’s breathing hitch below him, and sat up before he was pushed off.

Then Freddie walked out, wearing just the fake leather onesie with that dangerous zipper, and John felt his thoughts go fuzzy with want.

Suddenly Brian was standing, and in the low husky voice he saved for the bedroom, said, “Rog, get on the bed.”

Dipping his head almost demurely, Roger did just that, looking up at Brian through his eyelashes and settling down on his back. Brian didn’t hesitate and climbed on top of him, his mouth going straight to his chest.

John licked his lips. Freddie was looking at him expectantly. He remembered Freddie blushing before when being given instructions by John; he remembered Freddie, obediently still, after Brian had ordered him to remain on his knees.

After a moment’s hesitation when he felt all the weight of his relative inexperience come crashing down on him, John found his voice.

“Freddie, on the bed, on your back.”

To John’s ears, it sounded terribly weak and unconvincing, not at all like the order Brian had given Roger. But it had an immediate effect on Freddie, who promptly walked towards the bed and lay down on his back next to Roger – not close enough that John and Brian would be in each other’s way, but close enough that their hands could link easily.

The room was definitely not silent now – Roger was making mewling cries as Brian attacked his nipples with teeth and tongue, palm grinding against his crotch – but John felt the world narrow down to him and Freddie, aware of nothing outside the bed.

Freddie reached up, but John shook his head. “No. No touching.”

There was the flush of arousal that John was familiar with, warming the colour of the skin on Freddie’s chest. His nipples hardened as John watched, and finally John leaned down and licked a stripe along Freddie’s collarbone, from the hollow of his throat up to the sensitive spot on his shoulder, and Freddie let out a long, shaky sigh.

Slowly, John worked his way downwards, licking and occasionally biting along the opening of the costume. He ignored Freddie’s nipples, intent on teasing him, and held himself carefully so that Freddie couldn’t get any kind of friction on his cock. He could taste the salt of Freddie’s sweat, smell the musk of his arousal, and John was pretty sure it was making him drunk, in the best way.

Eventually he worked his way down past Freddie’s navel to where the zipper puller sat. John licked his lips again, knowing what he wanted to do but unsure if he could.

“Freddie, sweetheart, on your elbows. I want you to watch this,” he said, and this time his voice sounded stronger, and a little thrill ran up his spine at how quickly Freddie obeyed.

Beside him, he was barely aware that Roger and Brian were watching too.

“I wanted to do this all night,” John sighed, barely above a whisper. “It drove me crazy. Everyone in that building must have seen what it did to me.”

Then he bent down, and took the puller between his teeth.

Faintly he heard Roger’s gasp and Brian’s hitched moan, but all his conscious thought was consumed with the task at hand. He tugged at it, feeling the zipper begin to slide, and slowly eased it down over Freddie’s cock, letting it spring free; he took the zipper all the way to bottom and nuzzled his nose between his thighs, before leaning up to lick a stripe on the underside of Freddie’s cock.

Freddie groaned loudly above him, and John felt his boldness return. He dipped his tongue into the slit, savouring the taste, and then closed his lips around the head, lavishing attention on it with his tongue. Freddie groaned again and his fingers went to tangle in John’s hair; but John was having none of that tonight.

“No,” he said, lifting his head and letting go of Freddie’s cock. “No touching, remember?”

Freddie’s fingers immediately dropped from John’s hair to fist in the sheets instead.

“Good,” John praised, and he felt Freddie’s body sag as though all tension had been taken from him. Giving his lover a moment to adjust, John looked across at Brian and Roger.

Brian had two of his fingers inside Roger, twisting and moving expertly. John felt his cock twitch at both the sight and the memory they invoked. His mouth was also on Roger’s cock, and even as John watched, Brian opened his eyes and winked at him. Roger’s cries were getting louder, and his body was writhing, trying to push down on Brian’s fingers.

Well, two could play that game. John turned back to Freddie and took as much of his cock into his mouth as he could.

The room was filled with a cacophony of cries and moans, reverberating off the walls and making tingles whizz through John’s every nerve ending. He closed his eyes in enjoyment, loving the feel and taste of Freddie on his tongue, something he decided straight away he was going to do more often. He hummed, choosing the melody of his bass solo in _Liar_ , and Freddie’s cry was closer to a shriek; John suddenly became aware that his inner thighs were twitching in a very familiar way and quickly pulled back, which only caused Freddie to wail.

“John – John, my love…”

Freddie’s face was red, his eyes glazed; everything about him screamed sex, and John barely had the patience to take his own clothes off; why had he worn such tight pants? Trying to get them down over his thighs in a rush was difficult –

“Want a hand?”

Brian rose gracefully from his position, wiping his hand casually on a towel (when had that appeared?). John turned to him, and before he could react, Brian had his arms around his waist, kissing him deeply.

John tilted his head up to get better access, and slid his hands up to lift Brian’s shirt; Brian’s fingers were creeping under the waistband of his pants, easing them down over his ass.

A movement from the bed caught John’s eye; Freddie was starting to sit up to watch, and one hand was drifting towards his cock.

“No touching,” John reminded him. “Stay there. I’ll be with you soon, sweetheart.”

Freddie fell back with a moan.

Brian only had to fix Roger with an intense look before Roger, too, was lying still. He turned back to John with that same look in his eyes, and murmured, “You’re a quick learner. I like it.”

They had to break their kiss momentarily to get Brian’s shirt off, but Brian’s tongue was soon back, and John stood on his toes to push back, teeth nipping at Brian’s lip. The guitarist managed to slide John’s pants down his thighs, and there was a pause while John kicked them off and unbuttoned Brian’s.

Brian hummed into John’s mouth as he wriggled out of the pants, his hands skimming John’s chest. “Mmm. You’re delicious, John. But perhaps we shouldn’t keep our boys waiting any longer. They’ve been _very_ good.”

“Yes,” John agreed, managing to clear a little of his haze enough to think again. Brian went to kneel on the bed, and smeared more lube over his fingers before tossing the bottle to John.

John could see Freddie watching with wide, wondering eyes. They’d switched places exactly twice before, and he knew Freddie was wondering if a third time was on the cards. But while John had enjoyed it, he wanted something else tonight. After straddling Freddie’s thighs, he carefully poured some lube into his hand, and then reached back, sliding a finger around his hole.

It was a strain on his core muscles to do it, but he managed to work a finger inside himself, unable to prevent the moan that slipped from his lips as he did so. Freddie’s eyes were locked on him, watching as John prepared himself, his fingers creeping towards John’s thighs.

“N-No touching,” John managed to gasp out, his voice barely a thread of sound as he managed to get a second finger in, but Freddie obeyed the command anyway with a whine of desperation. Looking over, John’s eyes widened at the sight of Brian’s whole hand buried inside Roger; Roger’s whimpers were growing increasingly frazzled.

Suddenly John couldn’t wait anymore. He pulled his fingers out – making a choked-off sound at the sudden emptiness – and quickly poured more lube into his hand, reaching down to take Freddie in a firm grasp and lube up his cock.

Freddie’s eyes met John’s, and his voice was rasping and thin. “Please…please John…”

“No touching,” John reminded him again. And then, bracing his knees, he sat slowly, lowering himself onto Freddie’s cock. His head fell back when Freddie was fully sheathed inside him, unable to do anything but breathe for a long moment.

“Are you watching them, Rog?” Brian’s low, husky tone was just loud enough – deliberately – for them to hear. “Do you think you’d like to ride me like that some time?”

Roger nodded frantically, his own breath coming in ragged gasps; Brian was easing into him bit by torturous bit, not at all wanting to go fast.

Once the imminent threat of coming immediately was past, John ground his hips downwards, biting down on his moans as it made Freddie move inside him in interesting ways. He’d sat on Freddie’s lap before, of course, but never like this, never with Freddie not allowed to touch, and it was insanely good.

“Please – please John – let me touch you – let me _hear_ you, my love…”

Biting his lip again, John nodded, and Freddie’s breath rushed out in a long sigh of relief before his strong hands came up to grip John’s waist, and he bucked up. John nearly went limp then and there.

There was no sound in the room then, save for the groaning of the bedsprings and the harsh breathing, whimpers and moans as the two couples fucked almost savagely, chasing each other to satisfaction, each hearing the other pair’s pleasure and increasing their own in a feedback loop of ecstasy.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, it was Roger who came first, with a staccato series of moans in his high range that made the heat in John’s gut contract viciously. He watched Brian’s eyes go wide in surprise and delight and knew that it must have made Roger clamp down on Brian’s cock; and then Brian was coming too, on a long whine of Roger’s name, his hips moving erratically.

The sight was too much for Freddie, who bucked up wildly into John and came with a silent shout, his mouth stretched wide into an O. John ground down a few more times, feeling Freddie’s come fill him, before he followed with a cry, taking enormous satisfaction in watching his come splatter on the costume.

Exhausted, John slumped down, managing to roll sideways, and ended up on the bed between Roger and Freddie. He wriggled for a moment, kicking the bottle of lube out from where it was digging uncomfortably into his thigh, and found himself rolled into a snuggle with Roger.

“Bri, love, can you get the towels and things, please?” Roger asked, his voice now soft and gentle again. “My legs are like jelly, or I’d get them myself.”

Brian disappeared into the bathroom, also on decidedly wobbly legs, and came back with the warm, wet washcloths that Roger had obviously prepared earlier. Roger made a happy noise as Brian laid them on his stomach, leaning down to kiss him, and then John felt Roger’s hands on him, the warmth of the cloth, cleaning him tenderly.

After a moment, Freddie too managed to get to his feet – though like Brian, he looked a little unstable. John watched as Freddie peeled the onesie off, dumping it on the floor unceremoniously. A smug, satisfied feeling was in John’s chest – even if they managed to clean the stains off, Freddie would never forget that his costume had been marked with John’s come, would never be able to forget who he belonged to.

“You look like the cat that got the cream, dear one,” Freddie yawned, spooning up to John.

“You’ll never be able to wear that again,” John tried and failed to keep his tone light.

“You know,” Freddie murmured into John’s neck. “I like it when you get all possessive and bossy. We should do it more often.”

“Mm,” John agreed. “Perhaps. Especially if you continue to wear costumes like that.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Maybe so, sweetheart.”

John felt Roger snuggle up to him, having been persuaded by Brian that they were all clean enough, and then one of Brian’s long legs was slung across them, and his fingers tickled John’s side as he wrapped Roger in his arms.

“Goodnight, my darlings,” Freddie whispered.

“Goodnight.”

“Night.”

“Sleep well.”

John closed his eyes, a smile on his face, and let sleep carry him away, warm and content.

**Author's Note:**

> (I know the encore was almost certainly planned, but the way they all rush back on stage in different states of dress gives me room to suggest otherwise. Although seriously. How did Brian get out of the white pants and into the black pants so quickly? They weren't off stage for much more than five minutes.)
> 
> Also, a HUGE apology to all the Maylor people who were hanging out for part three. This was only supposed to be three parts because I forgot about the Odeon performance when I planned the series. So this isn't the Maylor I promised. That'll be the next one. Sorry about that!


End file.
